


A Door with no Handle, A Lock with no Key

by Will_I_Ever_Make_A_Sound



Category: Kingkiller Chronicles - Patrick Rothfuss, kkc
Genre: GIFT FOR ladybugwarrior, Gen, I participated in the kkc holiday exchange, I think this was supposed to be fluff??, I'm sorry now it's angst, Kvothe is an idiot and gets injured and his friends help him, M/M, and this was my gift, but not too bad, oh some description of a wound?, some blood, whoops this is kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 13:51:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17002863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Will_I_Ever_Make_A_Sound/pseuds/Will_I_Ever_Make_A_Sound
Summary: 2 times Kvothe is hurt and his friends take care of him





	A Door with no Handle, A Lock with no Key

**Author's Note:**

> gift for ladybugwarrior on tumblr :3 hope you enjoy friend

“Kvothe, I can't _believe_ -”  
Sim hissed in frustration, hands fluttering uselessly. In his anger, words failed to provide for him, and he sputtered, fumbling to a stop.  
Kvothe chuckled weakly, dull green eyes sparking with a hint of amusement, then quieted as the bandages around his chest tightened, making his breath catch in his throat.  
“You are as foolish as they come. More foolish than any jester three times over,” Wilem growled. His taller friend had his arms crossed firmly across his broad chest, and was glaring at Kvothe with something akin to motherly disapproval. Next to him, Simmon shook like an angry butterfly.  
“Sorry for making you worried,” Kvothe mumbled hoarsely. The dry taste of blood and fear still coated his mouth, and he licked his dry lips.  
The pair hesitated, then deflated, leaving only concern and worry and the lasting spark of panic.  
“You need to be more careful,” Sim said, carefully adjusting the blanket. “After all, who’ll buy us drinks if you're dead?”  
The feeble attempt at a joke, accompanied by a weak smile, sent a rush of warmth through Kvothe’s chest.  
“I'll try not to do something so stupid again, but I can make no promises,” he said, gingerly fingering his head.  
“You better,” Wil said seriously. Kvothe’s green eyes flickered, and his lips parted in a grin.  
“Seeing as apparently I'm more foolish than the most foolish jester three times over, that will prove to be difficult.”  
Simmon rolled his eyes. “I even brought your precious lute,” he said, gently nudging the leather case forward with his foot. Kvothe's face lit up, and he attempted to sit up in bed, sending the sheets flying.  
“Nuh-uh,” Wilem said, gently but firmly forcing him back down with one large hand. “You're not allowed to play until you're fully recovered.”  
Kvothe pouted, but it relaxed into a content half smile.  
“What would I do without you guys?”  
“Die, probably,” Simmon said dryly, adjusting the sheets. Both other boys snorted.  
“Probably,” Kvothe admitted.  
“Well then, we just better make sure we don't leave you.”

 

* * *

 

“ _Reshi_!”  
Bast’s disapproving squawk only barely registered in Kote’s ringing ears. He wearily stumbled into the tap room, collapsing against the bar, setting down the bag in his right hand with a loud thunk.  
Bast skidded into the room, hair flying unbound behind him like a dark banner as he leapt down the entire flight of stairs. He nearly tripped over his own feet in haste to reach Kote, who was gently feeling the gashing wound on his side.  
Bast’s eyes widened.  
“Strip,” he said sharply, and the harsh edge in his voice made Kote take his shirt off without hesitation, though he winced a little when the bloodied fabric stuck to his skin. As he did so, Bast fussed around, fetching a damp cloth, a pitcher of water, ointment, a needle of bone and thread, and strangely, a basin of milk. Kote collapsed onto an empty stool, making sure not to touch the wound.  
“You,” Bast hissed, “Are the most foolish manling I have ever made the unfortunate decision to fall for.”  
Though his words were dark and rough, his hands were gentle as he carefully dabbed away the blood. He sucked in a breath, brows furrowing in annoyance, as he saw the extent of the wound. Kvothe, more focused on the tone than the words, responded wryly. “I've been called a fool before. Many times over.”  
By the time his muddled brain had truly processed the meaning of Bast’s words, the younger man shoved the basin of milk in his face.  
“Swig. Then spit it back out.”  
Too weary and distracted to disobey, he did as told. The milk was pink when he spat it back into the basin.  
Bast swallowed the milk, a sour expression on his face, and blanched. The throbbing pain in Kvothe’s side lessened, even as Bast stumbled a little.  
“Bast-”  
“Shut up, Kvothe,” Bast said distractedly, dousing the cloth in ointment. Kote’s green eyes widened, then flared, but before he could sharply retort, stinging ointment was dabbed into the cut, and he hissed in pain.  
Bast winced a little, then grew more determined, thoroughly cleaning the cut before picking up the needle and thread.  
“You-” Bast said through clenched teeth, “must never-” he pulled the thread tight “ever-” he set the cloth aside “-ever do this again.”  
A ghost of a smile crossed Kote’s face, even as the needle pierced flesh.  
“You've said that as long as I've known you,” he mumbled. Bast scoffed.  
“Someone has to, and I don't see _you_ having any self restraint.”  
Kote’s face fell a little, remembering faint, fuzzy memories of a tall dark skinned boy and his smaller, paler counterpart and their concern so many years ago.  
“What would I do without you, Bast?” He asked bitter-sweetly.  
“Probably get lost in a ditch,” his apprentice retorted, ears folding back as he concentrated.  
“Well, you just better make sure you never leave me, then,” Kote said, leaning back and closing his eyes, letting memories flash through his head to block out the pain.  
“For real, this time.”

**Author's Note:**

> sooo that concludes the bad  
> (I have no clue when I'm supposed to share this for the exchange but I guess..... early holiday????)  
> kudos and comments? I guess? If you liked it??


End file.
